


If You Don't Have a Boyfriend, One Will Be Appointed for You

by orphan_account



Series: To Serve and Protect AU [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Christmas Eve, Kurt follows his heart, and braves the snowy night to find Noah</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Don't Have a Boyfriend, One Will Be Appointed for You

Puck patrols the nearly deserted roads that surround Lima. He’s one of the few officers on the force that is willing to work Christmas Eve. He doesn’t give a shit about the night – Hanukah ended several days earlier. Actually, Puck welcomes the chance to get out of the house with the biting cold nipping at him and the clear sky above him. The hours of solitude give him a chance to think without interference.

Traffic gets heavier as the sun goes down and people make their way home from the services aimed at families and children, but then it thins out again. With the sun setting, the wind picks up and clouds soon obscure the stars. Puck has the streets and highways to himself for a couple of hours until the next service. He rides far out of the city limits, knowing that he’s not going to find anyone misbehaving on the country lanes and byways. Nothing moves at all except for the wind off Lake Erie fifty miles to the north rustling the dead corn stalks in the deserted fields that line the empty roads.

Christmas Eve is really the quietest time for most police departments, when everyone is trying to be good. Of course, there’s the occasional partier who’s had too much, or the domestic disturbance when the stress of the season becomes too much for some people. Luckily, Puck doesn’t have to deal too much with those things, leaving them to the Lima Police Department and the Allen County sheriff.

At midnight, he’s far west on Route 309 when it starts to snow. His shift ends at two a.m. so he turns the bike around and heads back into town, moving slowly along the small roads running through farmland. He has barely seen a car on the roads since he turned west. Everyone is either tucked up in bed, or making their way home from late services.

The solitude and wind in his face haven’t helped his state of mind much. His mother is mad because he made no attempt to get home for the holidays. His little sister didn’t either, but at least Hannah has the excuse of being several states away at college. Puck simply doesn’t want to spend any more time in Toledo than necessary. Lima is so much more peaceful, and he can handle all the small town bullshit that comes with it better than the insane pace of the bigger city. Plus Lima has the advantage of being Kurt Hummel’s hometown.

Much good that does him.

Puck hasn’t heard a peep from Kurt in the three days since he stopped the red Porsche outside of Lima. Part of him hoped that Kurt would turn up on his doorstep like he had the last time, but that hasn’t happened. Puck knows he probably fucked up – that his desire to show Kurt a good time led him to overstep Kurt’s boundaries. He’s nearly had to physically pull his hand away from his phone, fighting the urge to call Finn and fish for information.

He counts it as a win that neither Finn nor Burt Hummel have shown up wanting his head in the past few days.

Puck can’t explain how he felt when he initially encountered Kurt Hummel in the red Porsche. The first time he saw Kurt was like something tumbled into place in Puck’s head with a nearly audible ‘click’ – like a lock finally opening or a puzzle piece slotting into the perfect space where it belongs. He’d always laughed at tales of love at first sight, and while he’s not ready to label this feeling as anything in particular just yet, he can’t deny that he felt a connection to Kurt from their original meeting. His overriding instinct was to claim the other man without delay, and the desire had only been reinforced by the time they spent together.

Since Thanksgiving, Puck has tried to hold himself back from imposing himself on Kurt. His urges are to take the other man over completely, but everything about Kurt screams that he wouldn’t accept that very well. So Puck has backed off, on the theory that Kurt will come to him when he’s ready. But he couldn’t help getting Kurt’s itinerary from Finn and meeting Kurt on the road. The encounter had been every bit as hot as he’d dreamed, but hadn’t ended the way he’d planned.

He wonders grimly as he passes the Lima city limits how long he’ll have to wait before Kurt forgives him.

And isn’t it a pisser that Puck needs Kurt to come back? When he was growing up, he wrote off his bisexuality at proof that he was a badass sex shark, but he gradually came to understand his true nature and accept himself as he is instead of passing his desires off as evidence of his status as a stud. The thing is . . . he always expected that when he decided to get serious with someone, the person would be of the female persuasion and they’d settle down to an utterly normal life. Puck can see that the universe isn’t done dicking with him, because somehow he wants all that with Kurt.

A salt truck on the way out to the highways splashes up some slush as Puck approaches the state police unit headquarters. He spares a brief moment of gratitude that he doesn’t have that job. At the unit, he files his report and leaves without changing. Puck just wants to get home, shake off the chill of the road, and find his bed.

The snow is still nothing more lazy flakes of white swirling down in the beams from his headlight when Puck turns onto his street, but he smells more snow on the air and suspects that it will be thicker before dawn. There’s a strange car parked in the driveway, its shape distorted by the snow that has accumulated on it. Puck hesitates, his instincts prickling, but then instinct of an entirely different kind kicks in as he recognizes the sleek lines of the classic Porsche.

He resists the urge to go bounding up to the car like a puppy just reunited with its master, but that’s totally what he wants to do. Although, he’s afraid that too much eagerness on his part will spook Kurt again, so he calmly hits the button on the garage door remote and pulls the bike inside. Hesitating for a long moment in the comforting darkness of the garage, Puck stays on his motorcycle, before finally dismounting to face whatever Kurt has in store for him.

The other man isn’t sitting in the dubious protection of the sports car as Puck expected. Instead he’s perched on Puck’s doorstep, clad in a long wool coat with a scarf of a muted plaid wrapped around his neck and the lower half of his face. Snow sprinkles his hair and dots his eyelashes as he looks up when Puck approaches him.

“Kurt,” Puck says softly, all he can think of at the moment, although there’s so much more, the words crowding his mouth, fighting to escape. He swallows to stop himself from making him into an even bigger fool.

“Noah.”

Puck reaches down and tugs Kurt up, unlocking the door and leading the slighter man into the house. He dumps his things in a pile on the floor.

“We need to talk,” Kurt says.

“I know. Tomorrow.”

“It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Not for me,” Puck answers.

Kurt nods and then shrugs out of his coat, carefully folding it and leaving it on the back of the couch. Puck can’t help staring at him, thinking that Kurt cleans up well. He’s wearing a superbly cut dark charcoal-grey suit that emphasizes his slim waist and broad shoulders. The knife-edge crease of the pants leads the eye down the long expanse of Kurt’s legs. Puck has never seen him wearing anything so conservative and yet so hot at the same time. If he weren’t so tired, Puck is pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself. He guesses that’s a good thing, as he’s certain that if he touches Kurt, he’ll just screw up and send Kurt running away – again. Maybe if Kurt says his piece, then they can start over without any misunderstandings this time.

Puck manages to avoid touching Kurt. He walks into the kitchen instead, leaving Kurt to follow him or not . . . as he likes.

He’s torn between wanting a stiff drink and wanting his bed. He settles for heating some milk in the microwave and dumping hot cocoa mix in a couple of mugs. When the milk is hot, he adds a slug of vodka to each cup. He supposes that Kurt is used to fancy drinks with cute names, but at the moment, Puck just wants to be warm and relaxed.

Handing the doctored cocoa to Kurt without speaking, Puck flips the kitchen lights off and stands in the darkness, watching as the snow falls outside his window. Kurt seems to catch his mood and shuts up for once. Warmth from the drink gradually spreads through is body and the chill from his long shift out on the road dissipates a little bit with each sip. His mind calms and he lets go of all the questions that have been plaguing him. Kurt has come back and they’ll find a way to talk.

For now though, him being here is enough.

Puck finishes his cocoa and puts the mug in the dishwasher. Kurt holds his out wordlessly and Puck places that one in the rack too. He takes Kurt’s hand and leads him back to the bedroom. The odd silence blankets them, but Puck isn’t worried about filling the room up with words. They have time now, and the peace of the night hasn’t left him yet.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Puck unbuckles his boots, easing them off until he can stretch his toes. He pulls off his socks, and then wiggles his feet, making sure the feeling has come back after the long cold ride. Then he pulls off his tie and opens the buttons to his uniform shirt. He stands and pulls the stiff twill pants down, leaving himself clad only in his boxers and wife-beater.

Kurt watches him with curious yet avid eyes. Puck ignores him, walking into the master bath to brush his teeth. When he comes back, Kurt is slowing working the Windsor knot of his tie apart. Puck climbs into bed, propping the pillows up and pulling the down comforter up to his chest. He watches Kurt carefully. The other man blushes slightly, but doesn’t turn away, locking eyes with Puck as he strips.

When Kurt is down to his underwear, Puck flips a corner of the comforter back and holds out his arm in invitation. Kurt gets the picture and crawls in beside him. They fit themselves together naturally, used to each other after their three days of practice the month before. Puck snuffles his nose in Kurt’s hair, smiling at the scent of the expensive shampoo . . . the scent that stayed on his pillow for days the previous month, until he was forced to change sheets.

“Night, Kurt,” he says softly, closing his eyes, feeling the security and comfort of having Kurt in his bed.

“Merry Christmas, Noah,” Kurt responds softly.

When Puck wakes up, the light is an odd diffuse grey and the sounds from outside his window are muffled as though someone has thrown a blanket over his house. He presumes they’ve had a lot of snow while he was sleeping, but can’t be bothered to leave the warmth of his bed to look out the window. The sensation of eyes on him has him turning his head as memory floods back and he looks for Kurt . . . who is propped up on one elbow, watching Puck wake up. The dim light lends a luminous glow to Kurt’s pale skin, reminding Puck of how he looked the night before, caught out in the snow like a lost angel.

“Morning,” Puck says, leaning in for a kiss.

Kurt turns his head away. “Go brush your teeth.”

Afraid of what that might mean, Puck does as he’s told. While he’s scrubbing his teeth, he reasons that Kurt wouldn’t have spent the night in his bed if he didn’t want something from Puck. However, Kurt’s coldness has efficiently quelled Puck’s morning boner. After taking a piss as well, he decides that Kurt’s just being a brat.

Reentering his room, he finds Kurt propped up against the headboard, still wearing his undergarments, but with the comforter pooled at his waist. Puck debates whether to join him – whether Kurt wants him in bed where shit can happen, but fuck that noise . . . it’s his bed. He climbs in, joining Kurt against the pillows. They can lie there side by side until Kurt decides to say his piece, but Puck thinks it’s absurd that they aren’t entwined with each other already. He wants Kurt wrapped in his arms where he belongs.

Tense silence blankets the room, making Puck feel like he can’t breathe. He shoots a sideways glance at Kurt, and finds the other man biting his lip nervously. Puck shrugs his shoulder and leans back further, settling his hand on Kurt’s leg, just leaving it there and not pushing things beyond that unthreatening touch.

With a small sound, Kurt breaks his rigid posture and rolls towards Puck, who gathers him up and settles him against his chest. Puck breathes more easily and relaxes finally.

“So talk,” he murmurs against Kurt’s fragrant hair.

Kurt huffs a little sigh that stirs the hairs on Puck’s chest.

“You can start with why you were freezing your ass off on my front porch,” Pucks says, trying to encourage Kurt to get on with the talking so they can hopefully move on to the fucking.

Silence fall for a few more moments, but then Kurt begins speaking. “I was at the late service with my family. I don’t believe in God but it makes my dad and Carole happy if I at least pretend to got through the motions.”

Kurt’s voice is full of a hurt sort of bitterness, making Puck wonder what happened to him in his life. Kurt’s face is made for joy and laughter, not this weary sadness. He gives the man by his side a gentle squeeze in encouragement.

“When we finished, it was just after midnight. I was exhausted – trying not to scream at the hypocrisy going on in that building wears me out. Anyway, when we walked out, it was snowing.”

He pauses, and Puck isn’t sure if he’s supposed to say anything or contribute anything, so he just nods.

“It was such a stupid cliché . . . snow on Christmas Eve. A white Christmas. But it was so beautiful . . . the flakes among the lights and the blackness of the sky. Beauty is my one weakness. It made me think of you.”

Puck is pretty sure that being included in Kurt’s weaknesses is a good thing, but he keeps his smile to himself, just rubs his face against Kurt’s hair. The other man shifts around restlessly, and his fingers pluck at the skin of Puck’s arm.

“You said . . . or you implied . . . that you were willing to be my boyfriend?”

Hearing the fear in Kurt’s voice, Puck presses a kiss against his head. “Yeah, I meant that.”

“But . . . why? We live hundreds of miles apart; we have entirely separate lives. Neither of us will change what we’re doing for the other.”

Puck shrugs, knowing it is his turn to lay it on the line and hope that Kurt reciprocates. “I don’t know exactly. But I felt something for you the first time I met you. Who knows what the future will bring? But I know I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try to have something with you.”

Kurt pulls back some, and turns so he’s lying beside Puck, who settles himself down onto the mattress so they’re facing each other.

“Okay, but here’s how it’s going to work. You can’t ambush me with surprise kinky sex anymore. That just isn’t done.”

“So we have to fuck in bed and I have to ask you permission first?” Puck can’t believe Kurt would impose such conditions on him. He’s almost positive that Kurt is just as adventurous as he is in the sack. If this is what being in a relationship with Kurt involves, Puck wants no part of it.

“Have you ever heard of safe, sane, and consensual?” Kurt demands.

“No. What the fuck is that?”

“It means that I’m not opposed to playing games with you, but you have to talk to me first.”

“Uh, surprise sex isn’t much of surprise if I tell you first. Plus you suggested the fucking handcuffs in the first place, so I really don’t see why you’re complaining about them now.”

Kurt makes a face that Puck is beginning to recognize. He privately labels it his ‘bitch-face’ but he won’t ever say that to Kurt, because he’s pretty fond of his dick and doesn’t want Kurt to try slicing it off.

“Okay, lame brain, here’s an example. Suppose that in the month since you saw me last, I was arrested and beaten up by a cop. Putting handcuffs on me, even if you meant me no harm, would be a nightmarish experience for me.”

“Did that happen?” Puck asks, ready to go kick some shit, even if he has to go all the way to New York to do it.

“No,” Kurt answers, “but the point is, you haven’t talked to me, so you didn’t know. It could have.”

“Is this about me not calling you?”

Kurt squirms at that, tugging as though he wants out of the bed, but Puck doesn’t let him go. He’s getting answers out of this frustrating man if it’s the last thing he does. Even if it ends up badly for him and where he wants this conversation to go.

“No . . . maybe . . . I don’t know.”

“You didn’t call me either,” Puck says.

With an undignified snort, Kurt says, “I was _trying_ to find an more appropriate boyfriend. One in New York for starters.”

“And?”

Puck doesn’t really want to know all of his failings in the relationship department, but he figures he might as well get it all out of the way from the start.

“You aren’t what I planned. I had it all mapped out. I’d find some sensible professional in the city whose logical side perfectly balances my artistic flare. Like a patent lawyer, for instance. We’d be the toast of the town and throw amazing parties with restricted guest lists, and be the envy of all the other gay couples. Except possibly Neil and David.”

He continues, “None that leaves room for a . . . a barely civilized cop, who carries a gun and has no appreciation for the finer things in life and whose favorite meal is a hamburger.”

“So why are you here?” Puck snaps, losing patience with Kurt and hurt by his rejection of the things that Puck enjoys.

“Because . . . I can’t get you out of my mind. And . . . maybe life happens to you when you’re not expecting it and you just have to go with it.”

“Even I’m not up to your standards?”

“I think maybe my standards need to be revised.”

“So . . . what do you want?”

Kurt’s fingers trace aimless patterns on Puck’s skin. “Noah,” he breathes, sending goose bumps over Puck’s chest. “I want you. I promise that my list of kinks is wide and I have no objection to sex anywhere you want it. We just need to set a few parameters first. Then you can do anything you want to me within those limits.”

Puck is sick of talking. Clearly they both want the same thing, so it’s about time they took it.

“Right now?” he complains.

“No, it can wait,” Kurt answers. “Just . . . for now, if I say no, respect that.”

“All right.” Puck rolls them, pressing Kurt down into the mattress. “Lose your fucking clothes,” he growls.

With his eyes suddenly gone wide and vulnerable, Kurt struggles to pull his undershirt off with Puck laying on him. Puck pulls back just enough to skim out of his own underclothes before he’s back on top of the slimmer man. In the meantime, Kurt has hurriedly pulled the shirt off and is trying to squirm out of his boxers. Puck helps, dragging them down Kurt’s legs and flinging them over his shoulder.

Dipping his head for a kiss, Puck crushes his lips against Kurt’s, thrusting with his tongue until Kurt finally surrenders and opens up. Puck barges inside, taking every inch of Kurt’s mouth, reveling in the way Kurt yields to his assault. Hands cling to his shoulders even as Kurt presses his hips into Puck’s.

“Spread your legs,” Puck demands. He leans over to retrieve the lube from the bedside table.

He wriggles down the bed until he can rest his head on one of Kurt’s wide-splayed thighs. He pushes Kurt’s other leg up, opening his groin area to Puck’s plundering hands. Pouring the lube over his fingers, Puck then thrusts two of them inside Kurt. He works his fingers, opening them and pressing against Kurt’s tissues.

“I’m not going to prep you anymore,” Puck informs Kurt. He pulls out, gets more lube, and pushes three fingers into his lover. “Not unless I want you to take my fist or some monster toy.”

He goes in again, four fingers this time, far enough so that his knuckles scrape Kurt’s ring of muscle. Puck raises his head to find Kurt looking flushed and shocked at the same time.

“I’ll never take you dry, I promise,” Puck continues. “But you’ll have to learn to open your hole for my dick. Any objections?”

Kurt swallows, but his body betrays him, moving against Puck’s hand. “No,” he finally says, his normal clear countertenor sounding shattered and hoarse.

Part of him wants to push it, press his whole fist inside Kurt, to have Kurt’s life in his hands. He wants his dick in Kurt more than he wants Kurt riding his arm, so he carefully disengages his hand from Kurt’s body.

“Hold yourself open for me,” he requests as he reaches for the condom box.

Kurt whimpers, but does as he’s told. His opening is slick with lube, and pulsing along with the tremors in his body. Puck shakes his head to clear the sudden haze of lust that makes his eyes go blurry. Compliant, needy Kurt is the most delicious thing Puck’s ever seen. He makes quick work of the condom and then positions himself between Kurt’s knees.

“Pull your legs back and tilt that pretty ass up.”

“You are so bossy,” Kurt complains, but he curls his spine until Puck can feel the edge of his entrance against the tip of his cock, even through the condom.

“In bed, yeah, I am. Get used to it.”

Puck cants his hips slightly and feels the flare of muscles giving way to his invasion. He pushes in, not bothering to let Kurt adjust. The man needs to learn to take Puck’s cock without his body resisting. He grabs Kurt’s thighs, shoving them up and apart to give himself easier access. Kurt has a dancer’s body, lithe and graceful, and bendable into whatever position Puck wants him.

Once he’s inside all the way with his groin pressed against Kurt’s cheeks, Puck rocks his hips a little, just feeling his way and watching how Kurt reacts to each stroke.

“For someone who’s all anytime, anywhere, you’re being an incredibly annoying tease,” Kurt says with a glare at him.

In no mood to let Kurt’s bitchiness get to him, Puck just smiles and angles his dick up towards the front of Kurt’s body where his prostate lies. The smaller man gasps and goes a little cross-eyed.

“I just wanna take my time fucking my boyfriend,” Puck says.

A pink flush covers Kurt’s cheeks at that statement and then works its way down Kurt’s chest. Puck watches the blush move over his skin, intrigued by the fairness of it. He decides that he wants to lick every inch of Kurt, to taste him everywhere, but that can wait for the next time. Which he thinks is fucking awesome that they’ll have a next time.

He keeps his movement slow and shallow, knowing that Kurt wants to be fucked hard, but not willing to let go of the connection between them until he’s ready. If he moves too fast, he knows he’ll lose it quickly. Puck picks up the lube and pours more over his cock to keep things moving easily. He watches Kurt’s face . . . sees the frustration and ire chase across his expression, which melt into annoyance and then a kind of begging.

“I hate you!” Kurt bursts out, reaching out to dig his slim fingers into Puck’s hips to try to urge him faster.

“What did I tell you about giving in?” Puck asks.

“Noah,” Kurt moans.

Puck decides that he likes his given name pronounced by Kurt’s lush lips. He stops moving and bends down awkwardly to give Kurt a kiss. It’s messy and full of tongue and spit, but Kurt sighs happily into his mouth. He arches up, pressing himself against Puck’s larger body. He twists his hips, clearly trying to screw himself on Puck’s cock.

Pulling back, Puck resumes his strokes, keeping them slow and shallow. Kurt snarls at him and reaches for his cock.

“Nope,” Puck says, batting his hands away. “You haven’t accepted this yet.”

“Accepted what?” Kurt screeches. “You’re fucking me, aren’t you?”

“I want your surrender, Kurt. All of it.”

Kurt stares at him, his hair sweaty, and disbelief written across his face as he pants, gasping for breath. “I . . . I don’t understand.”

“I know.”

Pleasure simmers inside Puck, but he keeps it tamped down. He has to last long enough for Kurt to understand that he utterly belongs to Puck, and that he has to stop fighting what he feels and what he wants. He told Puck weeks ago that he needs to learn to let go of things, and let go of the rigid control that he keeps on his life . . . Puck is just the person to teach him how to do that.

Beneath him, Kurt struggles, thrashing his head around and pushing against Puck’s chest. Puck hopes he doesn’t actually say ‘no’ because he knows he’s bound by their agreement to listen to that.

“What do you want?” Kurt begs.

“Let me in, baby.”

“You’re in,” Kurt protests. “You’re all the way in.”

“Not like that, and you know it,” Puck admonishes, keeping up the steady movement of his hips. “Stop denying what you feel, stop fighting this.”

“I’m not,” Kurt says, but his breathing is ragged and his eyes full of pain.

“Do you know when I quit?” Puck asks.

Kurt stares at him, clearly not knowing what he is talking about.

“It was when you walked out the door last time,” Puck answers his own question. “I kept telling myself it was just fucking, what we had going on between us. A hell of a fun few days, but that was it.”

He speeds up unconsciously, his thrusting hips reflecting the emotions he can’t stop. Kurt gasps and clenches his shoulders.

“But I was lying to myself, and once I admitted that I fucking want you, want everything from you, then it didn’t hurt so much to see you go.”

Kurt stares at him, his lips looking bruised, but Puck hasn’t been kissing him, so he guesses that Kurt’s been gnawing on himself.

“Go ahead and scream,” Puck suggests.

“I . . . You . . . I can’t.”

Puck jabs at his prostate. “Yes, you can. You have to. Give in.”

“Noah,” he wails.

“I’m here,” Puck says to reassure him.

Puck feels it the moment when Kurt really stops fighting what’s between them, when his body gives in and lets his emotions control him. He goes pliant and his muscles relax, seeming to welcome Puck in even deeper. His legs spread and his arms open.

“That’s it, baby.”

He drives into Kurt’s ass with intent now, wanting to bring them both off. Kurt isn’t resisting anything – he’s open both in body and heart. Puck marches in, taking over, inhabiting the empty spaces inside Kurt.

“So fucking hot,” he groans.

“Unload in me,” Kurt begs. “I was made for you.”

Puck’s abs clench at the idea of leaving his load in Kurt for real. Maybe that will happen some day, but the very thought of it nearly frays his control beyond recovery. He sucks up a hissing breath, tightening his hold on Kurt’s thighs. His strokes grow faster, but he keeps them short and sharp. Kurt thrashes, but his hips stay open, accepting Puck’s pounding, taking everything that Puck is giving him.

Slowing his strokes slightly, Puck reaches down and cups Kurt’s balls in his hand, rolling them around and squeezing. He can see that Kurt is about to protest, but then he smiles as Kurt swallows his objections and yields to what Puck gives him. Puck can feel the seed stirring within the nuts that he’s holding, and he puts his other hand on Kurt’s cock. He forgets about his own pleasure for the moment, so intent is he on forcing Kurt to surrender to the feelings they’re creating between them.

“Oh, Noah,” Kurt moans. “Make me come. Please.”

“Like hearing you beg,” Puck mutters, keeping his control only by the remaining shreds of his will.

Keeping his hips just rocking up into Kurt slightly, Puck twists his fingers around the tip of Kurt’s cock, swiping through the pre-come that’s leaking profusely from his shaft.

“Please.”

Kurt’s far gone, eyes turned inward. He doesn’t seem to be aware of Puck fucking him or of any of the inhibitions that he usually carries around with him. Puck drinks in the sight of him – his hair mussed, his lips swollen, and his cheeks flushed. Kurt’s hands twist his fingers into the sheets, and his chest rises and falls quickly with the flooding desire surging through him. His pale nipples are crinkled and sweat stands out on his fair skin. He makes a beautiful picture of a man in the throes of unmanageable ecstasy.

“Come for me, Kurt,” Puck says softly.

Flinging his head back on the pillow, Kurt shouts as his dick jumps and pulses under Puck’s hand, shooting his release all over his stomach. The tendons on his neck stand out and his jaw grinds as the breath rasps out of his mouth.

“Noah,” he shrieks.

“I’ve got you,” Puck says.

The tension leaves him slowly and he opens cloudy blue eyes to gaze unseeingly at Puck, who smiles at the other man.

“Gonna fuck you hard, now. Gonna shoot inside you.”

“Please,” Kurt whispers, his voice still wrecked, a harsh rasp that sounds nothing like his usual clear tones.

Changing his angle and leaning his weight on his arms to give himself more leverage, Puck slams his hips forward, churning his groin into the yielding heat of Kurt’s body. Small soft hands stroke his arms, and even as sweat drips off his nose, Puck looks at Kurt, seeing acceptance and trust shining out of his blue eyes.

“Can’t hold out,” Puck groans.

“Then don’t.”

His muscles tense as pleasure pools in his balls, gathers strength and barrels out of his cock as he spasms and fills the condom with his jizz. He grinds into Kurt, hips jerking as he rides out the end of his orgasm into the body below him.

Gentle hands urge him down, stroking through his hair and soothing the fine tremors in his muscles as his arms give out. Puck pulls himself together long enough to ease himself out of the blessed warmth that is Kurt. He ties off the rubber and drops it on the floor to pick up later. Kurt makes a cradle of his legs and hips, settling Puck between his thighs.

They drift for a while. Through a gap in the shades at the edge of the window, Puck watches the seething movement of snow outside, the white clear against the dark trunks of the trees running in the belt behind his house. Kurt is warm and solid against his side and Puck never wants to let him go. Their inevitable separation looms in his mind, but he shoves the thought away. They will take what they’ve been given and make every instant they spend together precious.

“What time is it?” Kurt finally asks drowsily.

Puck turns his head, squinting until the numbers on the clock become clear. “Almost ten.”

“We should get going,” Kurt says.

“What are you talking about?”

“My dad doesn’t sleep late, even on his days off. He’s up already and wondering where I am, even though I’m sure Finn must’ve told him part of it. Also, they won’t do presents until I get there.”

Puck has entirely forgotten what day it is. Reluctantly, he lets go of his lover, determined to burrow into his blankets for the day, and stay warm and cozy. Kurt sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“We can share a shower,” Kurt suggests. “Save time.”

“I’m not showering right now,” Puck says with a yawn. He’s definitely not going anywhere without an infusion of coffee.

“Of course you are. You’re not meeting my dad smelling like sex.”

“I already know your dad,” Puck says, puzzled. In the process of reconnecting with Finn, he’s met Finn’s stepfather and actually shared a few beers with him.

“Not as my boyfriend, idiot.”

Warmth tingles along Puck’s arms. “We’re really doing this?”

“We really are,” Kurt answers, leaning over for a kiss.

Puck nibbles at his lips, thinking that it’s going to take more than a shower to fool Burt Hummel, but he’s not going to argue. Meeting the family is more than he’d hoped for.

“Now come on, pretty boy,” Kurt insists. “Get your hot butt out of bed.”

“Pretty boy?” Puck growls, throwing back the covers and lunging off the mattress.

Kurt giggles and dashes for the bathroom. Puck gives chase, thinking that the universe gave him a pretty awesome present for the holidays.


End file.
